


caught up in the right place

by nightbloomings



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grocery Store, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-24 20:17:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3783028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightbloomings/pseuds/nightbloomings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen's day starts as any other and carries on the same way, until his shift at Herald's Fine Foods is over. <em>Someone</em> has a game of wicked grace to get to, and <em>someone</em> gets careless--and long story short, Cullen ends up locked inside. Overnight. </p>
<p>And he isn't alone, either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	caught up in the right place

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ill_burn_that_bridge](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ill_burn_that_bridge/gifts).



> okay. this story... is gonna require a little bit of handwaving, oops. but bear with me, because i promise it's worth it. i saw this prompt on tumblr: "two strangers locked inside a grocery store at three a.m. together AU," and the idea would Not leave me alone (even after gushing about it with a friend) but the premise is so farfetched. so. i've tried to couch it in logic as best as i can while still keeping it light, but there's bound to be a few leaps of faith required--all in the name of cutesy fluffy AUs.
> 
> for tara, because this is all her fault ♥

This can't have actually happened…

It's the sort of thing that happens in pithy movies, in cheap sitcoms, but not in real life—at least, certainly not in Cullen's decidedly uneventful one.

He looks everywhere: produce, bakery, and deli; every aisle, twice; the staff room, three times. Varric's short, sure, and easy to miss at Cullen's eye line but he's not _quiet_ , not by any stretch, and if he were still in the store, Cullen would've heard him well before now. As he circles back to the checkout lanes at the front of the store he has to admit that it seems he is, actually, locked in.

He drops his head back and groans, and turns back towards the staff room. Once inside, he pulls the clipboard with the schedule and staff roster off the hook inside the door. Varric's scheduled to open in the morning and, of course, so is Cullen. _Well, at least I'll be early_ , he thinks bitterly. He flips the page to see who the other keyholders are on staff. Cassandra and Leliana, and he knows Cassandra is out of town—extended family reunion of some sort. He looks at Leliana's phone number next to her name, his stomach turned in knots. He's only worked with her once since he started at Herald's, and she was… abrasive. No matter how much he blames the whole debacle on Varric, he'll still catch part of her wrath at being called down to the store on her day off, he's certain.

He decides to try Varric first, instead.

He dials the number on the phone in the staff room, pinning the receiver between his chin and his shoulder, and leans against the wall. The phone rings over and over, four, five, six times, and by that point Cullen's more annoyed by Varric's apparent lack of voicemail than he is about being locked in the store. Finally, though, the line clicks and—"leave it," followed by a beep.

Cullen sighs, faint relief taking over.  "Varric, it's Cullen. Rutherford. From Herald's. You, uh… you locked me in. Inside the store. It's quarter after eight, probably a bit later actually, and, um. I'm still here. Call the store, please, when you get this?"

He lets the call linger on the line for a few moments before pressing his thumb onto the lever and ending it. He dials Leliana's number next, and this time he's almost wishing to get her voicemail.

He does, and her outgoing message is surprisingly cheerful. Cute, even. It gives him a little more hope, should she be the one to get back to him first, and he leaves her a quick, apologetic message.

He hangs up the phone and looks around the staff room, a little lost for what to do next. He could stay, sit on one of the couches and wait for either Varric or Leliana to call back… but then what if Varric happens to realise what happened? He might drive back to the store without bothering to check his messages; Cullen would surely miss his knocking at the front door from the back.

So he goes back out into the store, taking the clipboard with him.

The eerie quiet of the otherwise bustling store reminds him again of just how alone and… _locked-in_ he is; Cullen curses under his breath and walks up to the automatic doors at the front of the store. Of course, they don't budge as he steps onto the mats in front of them. He looks through the glass at the small, deserted parking lot and sure enough, there's no sight of Bianca. And it's not as though Varric's vintage sports car is hard to miss, with its bright yellow paint, and woodgrain and chrome detailing.

Cullen frowns and looks down at the mats underfoot, his mind churning and working to think of some way that he can get himself out of this whole mess, and he… jumps. Twice, as though to be sure. He feels _ridiculous_ that he even vaguely considered it might work, but at least he's alone.

The street lamps in the parking lot flicker on all at once as the last wisps of dusk start to fade away, and Cullen checks his watch. 8:21 P.M. The store doesn't reopen until the next morning, almost twelve hours away.

Behind him, he can hear all sorts of noises that he'd never heard in the store before, for being drowned out by the din of customers and registers, and of course the tinny internet radio station that repeats itself over and over _and over_ throughout the day. There's ventilation fans whirring near the deli, and the sprinklers have just switched on over the chilled produce. A click and a soft creak sound out towards the back of the store, which Cullen can't quite place but figures it's the building settling, as old buildings do. He sighs again, shoving his hands into his pockets, and drops his head back to stare at the beams and piping of the exposed ceiling.

"Excuse me, sorry, but are you… closed?"

Panic strikes through Cullen, more at the sound of another voice rather than what's been said, and he whips around to look for the source of it.

There's a man—a customer, Cullen supposes—standing near the checkout lanes, his brow furrowed and his arms crossed over his chest.

"I… um…"

"You are, aren't you? I mean, it certainly _seems_ closed in here, dreadfully quiet as it is. I had no idea you closed so early, but then it being a Sunday I suppose it makes sense. That is the way of things, generally, isn't it."

"We are, yes… sorry, I… I wasn't aware there was anyone else still here."

The man smiles, quick like a flash, one curled side of his moustache quirking upwards. "Yes, I was in the washroom for rather longer than intended—some small hellion spilt the contents of his sippy cup all over my shirt, somehow, and this is organic raw cotton, you see, so it required immediate attention."

Cullen notices the dark damp spot in the man's pale green V-neck then, hidden partially by his folded arms, and he nods—though not out of any sort of understanding, really, because what does he know about organic raw cotton?

"Anyway," the man continues, freeing one hand and waving it as if to keep things moving along. "Then I got a call from my dear father and it… progressed from there, into less than cheerful territory and I suppose I didn't realise how long I'd been in the washroom by that point, so. Here I am."

Cullen nods again, stunned a little by how much the man has said in such a short span of time.

And he must have been quiet for too long, as he's wont to do, because the man gives a small sigh and a shrug and moves towards him. "So, again, terribly sorry for the unintended intrusion, and if you could just unlock those doors for me, I'll be on my way," the man says, pointing at the automatic doors behind Cullen with a smile.

"I, well... I'm afraid I can't do that, exactly…" Cullen clears his throat, feeling his cheeks begin to burn, and he starts to rub at the back of his neck. "They're locked."

The man's mouth falls open, and Cullen waits for a barrage of what will surely be a verbose wave of insults, but instead the man chuckles softly. "Yes, as I figured, given that you're standing directly on top of the mats at the foot of them—which is why I said if you could just unlock them…"

"Right, no, no, I understood, it's just—I don't have a key."

The man nods and smiles in the way one does when about to placate a small child. "Alright then, if you could then fetch your manager or whichever colleague _does_ have a key…" he says, slow and enunciated, and that only serves to make Cullen blush deeper.

Cullen drops his head and shakes it, moving past the man to put the clipboard he's still holding on one of the checkout lanes for no reason whatsoever other than to have something to do that isn't standing still and looking dumbfounded. He clears his throat again and tries to call forth his most authoritative voice.

"They aren't here, sir. No one is, save for you and I. The doors are on a timer and cannot be opened from inside."

Any sort of kindness the man's face held melts away and morphs into something terse and hard. "Surely you're joking," he says, almost stalking towards Cullen with both arms crossed over his chest again, but tighter now.

Cullen shakes his head. "I'm sorry, sir, I wish I was but, no. We're locked inside, for the time being."

The man scoffs, shaking his head and looking off at some undefined point to his left. "For the time being," he repeats, sardonic and bitter. "This is bloody ridiculous—how does this even _happen_?"

"Uh, well… my coworker, Varric, was meant to be checking the store for any remaining customers, and he's meant to wait for me to leave, being that he's the keyholder, but… he didn't? Not so much as a—" Cullen pauses to clear his throat, and gives his best impression of Varric. "'Curly! Where ya at?' So… I wasn't aware of when he'd left. And truthfully, I'm wondering now whether he even checked the store properly, because surely he'd have found you if he had... Anyway, the point being, he left without a word and locked me inside."

The man looks down at the floor for a beat, and clears his throat. When he looks up again, his mouth is set in a thin line, his eyebrows drawn. "Us! Locked _us_ inside!"

His shout startles Cullen, and his hand finds the back of his neck again before his head dips down. "Yes, yes, sorry, I'm… I'm still a bit at a loss of what to do, here."

The man hums, exhales sharply, and puts his hands on his hips, looking determined, as though he's going to get to the bottom of the issue. "Well? Have you called other employees at least? This Varric, or whomever else holds a key?"

Cullen nods and places a hand on top of the schedule and staff roster next to him. "Of course. I've just left a message with him, and have done the same with a manager who was scheduled off today."

"Right, okay… well, let's hope they recognise your mobile and call you back quickly."

"Oh, well I called from the store, but—"

"From the store," the man repeats, and Cullen nods.

"Well, yes… I don't bring my mobile to work. Not really any time to answer it here, it's rather nonstop busy."

The man heaves a heavy sigh. "Honestly, who doesn't bring their phone everywhere with them these days… Okay, okay, but… no employee is going to answer a call from their employer after hours or on their day off."

Cullen opens his mouth to answer… but finds he doesn't have one. It's a valid point, especially with regards to Varric. "Leliana's more responsible than that," he offers. "Varric's only a keyholder, but… she's a manager."

The man hums, crossing his arms again and tilting his head to the side. "Mm, you've said. Well, I suppose our fate's in the Maker's hands for the time being, isn't it?" He smiles, soft and barely there, but it's there all the same.

And Cullen returns it, albeit a bit weakly. "I… yes. I suppose it is…"

In a smooth, fluid movement, the man unfolds his arms, straightens his posture, and holds out his right hand to Cullen. "Dorian, by the way. In the eventuality we're bound to spend time together here, at least it can be done on a first name basis."

Cullen takes Dorian's hand on reflex, feeling the several rings on his fingers rather than seeing them. "Cullen."

Dorian smiles again, a little brighter than before. "Cullen…" he repeats, slow and careful like he's trying it on for size around his tongue. He puts both his hands into the pockets of his low-slung slacks and takes an idle look around the store, sweeping his eyes from one side to the other. When he looks back at Cullen, his smile's turned knowing, almost teasing. "When I approached from the washroom, did I see you…" he pauses to quirk one eyebrow up, "jumping? On the mats by the front doors?"

Cullen's mouth goes slack then, and he feels the burn of embarrassment sweep across his cheeks again. And up his ears. And down his neck. Everywhere, really. "I…" He swallows, then drops his head and squeezes his eyes shut. "Maker's balls."

A laugh peels from Dorian, lilting and practically musical. "Oh, no need to invoke anyone's bullocks over that, Cullen." He reaches forward and pats Cullen on the shoulder, his hand warm through Cullen's white uniform shirt. "Admittedly at the time I was entirely confused and possibly a mite worried but now, it's reassuring to know you were willing to try anything to get out of this predicament."

Cullen tilts his head so he can look up at Dorian with one eye, and his expression is so bemused that Cullen can't help but scoff a short laugh at the entire thing. "Yes, well, I'm…"

"Nothing if not resourceful?"

"That's one way of putting it, I suppose." Cullen straightens again, and he feels looser and less panicked. If there was one person to be stuck with in this place overnight, Dorian is beginning to seem a good option. Not that Cullen knows at all what he, or they, should do now, and it feels weighted between them, as though Dorian's waiting for him to suggest something to keep them occupied. But the only thing Cullen's ever done in the store is _work_ , so…

"I, um, I should probably go work on cleaning things up. Tally inventory, restock…"

Dorian narrows his eyes at Cullen slightly, then gives the store around them a quick once-over. "Well, everything looks pretty stocked from here. Plus, you are off the clock, aren't you? No one would fault you for… not-working, surely."

"I am, but I should keep busy," he says quickly, bringing a hand to the back of his neck. "Less for me to do in the morning before opening, that sort of thing…"

Dorian scoffs. "They can't expect you to work tomorrow, can they? After this? I mean, presuming you're here until the morning, I suppose."

The thought hadn't really occurred to Cullen, to consider taking the next day off if he ended up being in the store through the night. "I, well… I would, either way. I can't afford to give up hours right now or risk losing…" He lets his voice trail off because this already feels like much more information than Dorian would care to know. "It's a long story."

"Oh, well, forget all that," Dorian says, smiling broadly. "I have something you can do instead: keep me entertained!"

It's clear he's trying to make light of everything, to ease whatever worry Cullen must be wearing all over his face, so Cullen returns the smile as best he can despite the anxiety roiling in his gut. He's still at a loss for what to say, though, for how to continue from this point, focusing instead on just how… _weird_ it is to be thrown into this sort of situation with a stranger.

"Let me just go get the basics done, nothing too intensive, and then…"

Dorian hums, with a short nod. "And then. I suppose I'll meander over to the magazine aisle. Fancy little niche store like this, I'm sure there's a rather inspired selection."

So Dorian sets off with a sharp turn of his boot, and Cullen lets out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. It's going to be a long night, at this rate.

•••

He sees to the appearance of the shelves first, walking up and down each aisle—and pointedly skipping the one with the magazines—and making sure that things are in neat order. Which they are, because Herald's has employees that spend their entire workdays doing exactly this. But at least it's something to do, something he can focus on that he doesn't have to think about or worry about embarrassing himself over.

After he's sure there's not any more fussing he can do over the shelves, he restocks. Halfheartedly, because he's not about to haul out massive boxes of stock, no matter how much he wants to pretend to be busy.

He knows he's really just making work, finding things to do to avoid having to talk to Dorian, and he's sure that it's obvious, too. Dorian seems easy-going enough, easy to talk to—and certainly easy to look at, too. And he seems as though he'd have an interesting story to tell. But that could only last so long and then what would they talk about? Cullen's life is his routines and repetitive days; his dog and his roommate, both of whom he rarely sees for long. It's hardly riveting.

And beyond that, he's sure to have offended Dorian somehow by being so awkward and avoidant.

So Cullen continues to work, if it can really be called such anymore, doing whatever he can think to do to keep busy. And after another half hour or so, while he's perched on top of a step stool in the condiments aisle and making sure that each jar of pasta sauce has its label facing outward, Dorian approaches.

Wherein 'approaching' means swooping up quick and silent, and leaning up against the shelves in front of Cullen's step stool in one fluid movement.

Dorian crosses his arms and frowns a little as he looks up at Cullen. "I'm bored. What was it you said earlier? 'Maker's balls?'" Cullen opens his mouth to answer, but Dorian carries on anyway. "Then Maker's _balls_ , I'm bored. Has anyone called back yet?"

"No… not so far. I'll go ring Varric again," Cullen says, climbing down from the step stool. "Maybe it's been long enough into his card game that he'll be due for a break soon."

He heads for the front of the store, where he left the staff roster, and Dorian is close at his heels. Varric's voicemail picks up again, and Cullen leaves another message—rather more annoyed and to the point than before—though he knows it's really not going to do much good at this point. Cullen's only worked with him for a short while but Varric, while being charming, affable, and friendly, is seemingly only reliable when it benefits him.

Which of course he isn't going to tell Dorian, because it feels like that would only exacerbate the situation further.

And at least Dorian's not looking at him with some hopeful, expectant expression when he turns back around after hanging up the phone.

"I heard," Dorian says, before Cullen has a chance to say anything.

"I'm… sorry, this is really unfair for you to have to deal with."

"Oh, shh." Dorian smiles, and it feels genuine which sets Cullen a little more at ease, at least. "But fine, if we're going to be here for the long haul, where might one find the _libations_?"

"The libations…?"

Dorian chuckles, shaking his head. "The alcohol?"

"Oh," Cullen says under his breath. He knew what the word meant, of course, but he hadn't thought Dorian truly meant to find things to drink and actually… drink them. "We probably shouldn’t, um, touch anything? There's inventory, I mean, and payment..."

Dorian shakes his head and waves his hand around, as if to clear the air of Cullen's anxiety/worry. "Nonsense. I'll cover everything in the morning, cut Mr Herald a cheque for—"

"His name isn't Herald, actually, it's—"

"Well, _whatever_ it is, he'll get his money." Dorian straightens, fixing Cullen with a pointed look. "I'm off to find wine, so you can either come with me or be surprised by what I come back with."

Cullen stays where he is.

And Dorian returns in short order, holding two bottles of wine and a pair of glasses that Cullen recognises from the staff room.

"To get us started," Dorian says. "Goodness that staff room is gloomy, isn't it? Dank and dreary. Much better that we stay out here where it's bright and colourful. Now, what's your favourite aisle?"

Cullen's taken aback, honestly. Dorian is nothing if not overwhelming, though he has to admit that it's not an unwelcome sort of intensity—it just… takes Cullen a moment to catch up each time, apparently.

"Is that something that people generally have? A favourite aisle?"

Dorian laughs, so at least there's that. "Honestly, Cullen… just pick one! There's no wrong answer here."

And a blush creeps over Cullen's cheeks, despite Dorian's genial tone. "Um, cereal. I guess." He feels like a _child_ , and considers pretending that it was the first thing to come to mind, but… it is the truth.

He rather likes cereal.

"Done. You go scrounge up some food, and meet me in the cereal aisle post haste. That's our base of operations, if you will, from now on."

And Dorian's off, pulling another about-face and heading off. It's the wrong direction for the cereal aisle, but Cullen doesn't bother to correct him—he'll find his way.

Cullen decides the deli is the best starting point for his hunt so he heads that direction, opposite from Dorian, picking up a basket from the front of the store on the way. He helps himself into the walk-in refrigerator behind the counter and stares at the shelves of packaged salads and sandwiches.

He is completely unsure of what to take. He knows what his preferences are, sure, but doesn't know where to begin with Dorian. He seems like he may be vegetarian, Cullen figures. Or perhaps vegan. Something ridiculously healthy either way, given how… slender Dorian is. He's toned too, his t-shirt's given that much away. So, yoga, probably, or Pilates even. Cullen doesn't want to bring back nothing but meat and cheese and creamy salads and offend Dorian's tastes, and he very nearly turns around to go ask Dorian what he'd prefer, but then—

He can see what Dorian's playing at here, too. It's as though it's meant to be a game, making the best of an incredibly bad and awkward situation. Cullen feels like a considerably-sized tool as it is, after his avoidance of Dorian earlier, and going back to ruin the fun of the whole thing… well, Cullen decides then to play along and be a little _spontaneous_.

He gathers a few salads: chickpea, orzo, and kale and sesame, plus cutlery and two sandwiches—one meat and one veg, to cover all bases. And by that point the chill of the walk-in has seeped well past his thin cotton button-down so he carries on.

The cheese selection is across from the deli, and Cullen takes a bundle of wax-wrapped miniature cheeses and puts them into the basket, along with a box of crackers that are fancier than they ought to be but is par for the course for what Herald's keeps in stock. He glances down into the basket then, assessing his haul.

And it seems ridiculous, given the situation, to think of needing a 'dessert' of sorts, but...

He detours through the candy aisle all the same.

Full basket in tow, he heads to the cereal aisle, where Dorian's sitting cross-legged on the floor in the very middle, surrounded by colourful boxes of kids' cereal. Cullen can't help the smile that takes over at the sight, though it falls slightly when he sees the dour expression on Dorian's face, mostly hidden though it is by his bent head as he looks down at his phone. Cullen purposely jostles the basket, the plastic containers inside announcing his presence. Dorian looks up sharply and he smiles at Cullen, but not quite fast enough to mask what had been written across his face before.

"The hunter returns from the wilds," Dorian says, his tone light, looking into the basket as Cullen sets it on the floor near Dorian's knee. He starts to root through it. "You've done very well, I must say."

Cullen takes advantage of Dorian's distraction to avoid saying anything, and he sits across the aisle from Dorian. "I believe I did alright, but if there's anything not to your taste or if you want something more, just—"

"Hush. This is perfect." Dorian looks away from the basket and gives Cullen a lopsided smile, easy and noncommittal, but then he adds a wink and the blush spreads faster over Cullen's cheeks than it usually does. "Wine?"

Dorian's already opened the bottle of white and poured himself a glass, Cullen notices, and he nods when Dorian holds up the bottle. At least with a bit of alcohol in is system, his complexion will be flush enough to disguise anymore blushing it decides to do.

Dorian hands the wine to Cullen and sets about tucking into the food in the basket. He samples each salad, twice, and sets the containers on the floor between him and Cullen.

"I, um, there's a sandwich with meat and a vegetarian one… I wasn't sure of your preference…"

Dorian tips the basket forward a little, looking inside. "You thought me a vegetarian?" he asks, tilting his head towards Cullen with a quirked eyebrow.

"The thought did occur to me."

Dorian chuckles and pulls both sandwiches from the basket, unwrapping them both in his lap. "Well, I _am_ the very picture of health, aren't I?" He pauses to reach for his wine, taking two long pulls, and the wink he gives Cullen afterwards tells him it was all for effect, anyway. "No, no, good food is too rare to pass it up just because it once came from some living thing. On that note, shall we share these?"

He doesn't wait for an answer and swaps half of each sandwich for the other and passes one of the unfurled packages across to Cullen. Which suits Cullen fine, as he's got the same attitude in regards to food as Dorian, it turns out, however he suspects his palate is rather more… pedestrian.

They eat in near-silence for a while, save for the crinkle of deli paper and the assorted sounds the store itself makes as it carries on its business. And the quiet is much less awkward than Cullen had been fearing; instead, it's easy. Comfortable, even.

Dorian balls up the paper from his sandwich as he finishes, and he tops up their wine. "Quite a lovely little picnic you threw together, Cullen. Well done."

And the way Dorian smiles at him then, still in his place across the aisle but feeling so much closer than that… well, perhaps Cullen ought to pace himself more on the wine.

Right after this next deep drink of it, plus the two short ones that follow it up for good measure.

Dorian pulls his phone from his pocket then and checks it, and Cullen can't help but wonder whether it's a matter of reflex or some sort of comment on his conversational skills. Dorian swipes down the screen a couple of times, then Cullen can see the display go black; Dorian frowns slightly and holds down the power button for a few seconds, but when it doesn't respond he lets out a huff and shoves the phone back into his pocket.

He looks up at Cullen then, catching his eye, and it throws Cullen offguard. He drops his eyes quickly and clears his throat. "There's, um, probably a charger in the staff room, if you needed? People tend to leave them around just in case."

Dorian sighs softly but he smiles too, even if it seems a little sad. "And who would I call? I've no friends to speak of, not here. And I'm certainly not going simpering back to my _father_ , of all people." His ire is tangible when he stops talking but Cullen doesn't look away this time because he finds that he _can't_ , actually, and the tension leaves Dorian a moment later. "Besides, this isn't all that bad," he adds, winking.

And Cullen is glad that he can finally attribute the heat that blooms across his cheeks and down the back of his neck to the wine.

"Anyway," Dorian says through a deep exhale, "it's all neither here nor there. I'm… in the wind, as it were, so no, I've no real need of my phone now. Unless you wanted to use it…?"

"Oh, no… I'm in a similar situation, myself, sort of. I've a roommate but he'll be of no use with this for, um… any number of reasons, really."

Dorian chuckles despite Cullen not intending his comment to be funny, but he doesn't begrudge the sound of it at all. Rather, he feels the pull to find ways to draw it out of him again. It was light, but it felt genuine too.

"Right. Are you new here too, then?"

"Not new here as in Haven), but I'm new to Herald's. I just… I don't have a lot of connections here, save for Alistair."

"The roommate."

Cullen hums and nods. "We worked together, before this."

"And what did 'before this' entail?"

"I was a security guard, with Templar Security. For a long time, actually. Alistair was too, though he got out before I did."

"And you left voluntarily, or…?"

Cullen hums. He had, though it wasn't as if he'd had much choice in the matter. "I did, more or less. It was a… difference of opinion between me and my superior, with the way she was conducting things. Herself… Anyway, I left and had no contingency plans to speak of, so… here I am. Until I can figure out what to do next, I suppose."

"Ahh." Dorian nods and his smile is soft, knowing almost. "The nebulous 'what to do next.' I'm well acquainted."

It feels like an opening, an invitation for Cullen to prod further and ask questions and uncover more pieces of Dorian's story but—it also feels like too much. Too personal, too complicated. Especially across from each other on the floor of the cereal aisle of the grocery store he works at.

Across from each other at a table in a quiet, dim restaurant, however…

Cullen's been quiet too long, probably, because Dorian lets out a little sigh and lifts himself off the floor. Cullen's about to apologise, to blame his silence on… something, anything, he's not quite sure what, and it must show on his face because Dorian immediately waves it away with his hand.

"Just off to the loo, won't be long."

Cullen nods as Dorian turns away, and Maker help him but he watches him go.

When Dorian's turned the corner out of sight, Cullen sighs and leans back against the shelving again. This is easily the most surreal moment of his life—and it would've been even if it'd just been him locked in the store overnight. But to have another person there as well, let alone someone like Dorian… well.

At least 'surreal' can also mean 'good,' sometimes.

Some of the tension he'd been holding onto leaves Cullen's body with that sigh and he feels good. Loose. At ease, even. He stretches his arms and shakes them out, unbuttons the cuffs of his work shirt and rolls the sleeves up to his elbows. He's running both hands through his hair when Dorian returns, Cullen can see him in his periphery and it seems as though he's stopped and standing still. Cullen looks over at him as he lowers his hands, and there's something in the way Dorian's looking at him that sends a small jolt through Cullen, emanating from that tell-tale bloom of something heated in the middle of his chest.

Dorian continues his approach and rather than take up the spot across the aisle, he instead sits beside Cullen. And he's _close_ , enough that Cullen can feel the warmth of him through his shirt. Cullen's taken with the impulse to lift his arm and wrap it around Dorian's shoulders, but he's torn between deciding whether it's because it feels like the right thing to do or because it feels like the one thing he wants to do—and he's learned in life that these things are not always the same. But still he almost carries through and does it, but only almost.

It's a boundary that he's not about to cross, not here.

And maybe Dorian reads him, because he bumps his shoulder into Cullen's with a smile that's as soft and warm as Dorian feels.

"I, um—" Cullen's voice is rough and it catches on something in his throat until he pauses to clear it. "I should go make some more phone calls…" he says it because it feels like the right thing to do, despite the fact that getting up and leaving this spot is the last thing he wants to do.

Dorian just shakes his head in wide sweeps from side to side. "Mm, no. Nonsense, at this point. It's late," he says, as though that solves everything. "Besides, we still have that second bottle of wine and a packet of jellybeans to make our way through and it would be a crime to cut this picnic short."

Dorian breaks the connection between their arms as he leans forward to reach for the wine but he settles back just as close once he has it, and he tosses the jellybeans at Cullen before opening the wine.

"Those look like the fancy kind," Dorian says as he fills Cullen's glass. It's red, this time. "With all the interesting flavours."

Cullen's already eating a few jellybeans by that point, and he looks at the packet idly as he chews, popping another in his mouth. He's just about to confirm that yes, there apparently are some interesting flavours when the taste of buttered popcorn fills his mouth.

"Augh, Maker…" he reaches for his glass with a groan and he takes a long drink, swirling the dry, earthy wine over his tongue a few times.

Dorian's laughing, rather heartily, at him, his head leant back far enough that it knocks a box of Cheerio's out of place. And he keeps laughing, sounding utterly, truly amused by… whatever it is about Cullen's reaction that struck him, and Cullen can't help but chuckle over it too.

They must be a sight, he thinks, propped up against the shelving and laughing, surrounded by empty containers and crumpled up deli paper.

Dorian's laughing finally eases to a soft, lilting exhale, and he rubs under his eyes with his fingertips a few times. "What flavour was that?" he asks, his tone light and still laced with amusement.

Cullen reaches for his glass. "Popcorn," he mutters into it, before taking a sip. "Of all things to make a blighted jellybean taste like…"

Dorian laughs through his nose and drinks from his glass—three times, as though to keep pace. He takes the jellybeans from Cullen and looks at the listing of flavours on the back of the packet. "Well. There it is. Banana, too. And coconut. What odd things to turn into jellybeans."

"I like coconut," Cullen says, simple and matter of fact, and it takes him a few moments to realise how that must have sounded.

And the laugh that peels out of Dorian confirms. "I'll try to save those ones for you, then."

He looks at Cullen then, which means he's caught the way Cullen's been looking at him—

One corner of his curled moustache hitches up with his smile.

 

The second bottle of wine disappears quicker than the first, and all of the jellybeans are long gone—save for the popcorn ones because Dorian refuses to try even one, not "after that magnificent display," he says.

And at some point after their glasses are empty, they fall asleep, as best they can in the positions they're in—Dorian's head on Cullen's shoulder and Cullen leaning into Dorian. Cullen wakes up first, when his body tells him it's time to get ready for work—he wakes before his alarm every morning, just about, so it's no surprise he manages it now—and his neck is incredibly stiff and sore along the right side where it's been stretched out by the way his head was tilted against Dorian's. But the heft of Dorian's head against his shoulder makes it hurt a little less.

It doesn't change how blighted uncomfortable he is, though. He shifts his hips, trying to get some of the feeling back in his ass, and he tries to roll his back slightly, to get away from where the shelves are digging in. Dorian wakes as he moves, coming to with a soft gasp.

He lifts his head and his hair is a mess, technically, but it still somehow manages to look like the whole thing was bloody intentional. He turns to look at Cullen and smiles sleepily, before hiding his mouth with his hand as he yawns.

"Morning," he says through the yawn. "I think? It must be morning by now."

Cullen looks down at his watch, blinking quickly several times to clear the bleariness from his eyes. "Half six, apparently. Varric will be here in an hour or so, to open."

Dorian nods through another yawn. "Well, we survived."

Cullen laughs, though it's more of a huff than anything else. "That we did."

A silence blankets them then, thick and weighted by things felt and things unsaid, but it's comfortable all the same.

And then it's interrupted by the loud rumble Cullen's stomach makes. Dorian giggles under his breath and Cullen scoffs at himself, shaking his head. Cullen stretches out his torso and reaches an arm up to blindly grab a box of cereal from behind his head.

Lucky Charms. His favourite, just so happens.

He cracks the box open and scoops out a handful before tilting it over to Dorian. Dorian reaches in and nimbly picks out several marshmallows. He eats them one by one, his teeth squeaking each time he bites down.

"The marshmallows are the best part," he says in between.

Cullen chuckles and nods, agreeing, until he's taken by a deep yawn that he barely manages to cover with his hand. "Maker…" he says when he recovers. "I'm exhausted."

Dorian yawns too, just as severely, and he laughs softly afterwards. "Maker's _balls_ ," he teases. "Me too."

They sit in quiet for a short while, alternating handfuls of cereal, until Dorian breaks the surface of the calm and shifts to push himself up. Cullen follows suit, closing up the box of cereal and standing. They stretch, shaking out limbs and easing catches in muscles, wordless.

Dorian stoops to gather the containers from their food back into the basket. "As I didn't have a chance to do my grocery shopping last night, I'll go take care of that now, if you don't mind…"

"No, no, by all means," Cullen says, his hand tracking to the back of his neck. "I'll, um, go see to the front of the store, make sure everything's ready…"

They part with a nod, and Cullen with a pit deep in his stomach as he heads for the checkout lanes. It's a strange feeling, uncomfortable, unwelcome—but not unprovoked, he knows that much. He curses under his breath and leans against the nearest lane to wait for Varric.

There's a jingle of keys by the front doors half an hour later and Cullen looks up as Varric lets himself into the store. He moves further in but stops short when he sees Cullen—and Maker but Cullen must be a sight, with the way that Varric looks at him.

"Curly? What in the Void… you look like nug shit."

Cullen scoffs bitterly, shrugging one shoulder and nodding. "I feel it, too."

"How did you get in here? It _is_ Monday, right? Please tell me I'm actually the keyholder scheduled today and that I didn't come in for nothing." Varric chuckles heartily as he approaches, clapping Cullen on the arm.

"Oh no, you're scheduled. I've been here since yesterday."

Maybe it's the matter of fact way that Cullen said it, but it takes Varric more than moment to process what he said. "You… you're shitting me. You were here, what, overnight?"

Cullen hums and nods, straightening and pulling away from the checkout lane to crack his neck. "Real brilliant sleep, too."

Varric at least has the sense to look mollified, wincing at Cullen. "Wow, that's… I'm sorry, I had no idea. Why didn't you call me?"

Cullen barks out a laugh at that, if only to counteract the anger that floods his chest. "I did you call you! Twice! I left two messages, Varric."

"I… oh. Right, I did see those calls, but y'know… after hours, work number, that sort of thing. I cleaned up at wicked grace last night, though, Curly—I'll split the whole pot with you."

"No, no…" Cullen sighs, waving his hand as if to shoo the suggestion away.

"Alright, well then I'll parlay that cash into booze and set you up for at least the next month or something. Anyway, take the day, I'll make sure they don't dock your hours. I'll call Josephine in or something, you should go home and get some real sleep. Y'know, nug shit, and all that…" Varric smiles at Cullen then; it's clearly an apology, and Cullen finds he can't help but just take it for what it is.

"Yeah, thanks, Varric." Cullen runs a hand through his hair, moving past Varric towards the front doors. "But wait, there's… there's someone else here."

Varric cocks an eyebrow at that, looking entirely puzzled until realisation dawns on him and he mouths a silent "fuck me." He quickly scans the store behind him and Cullen. "A customer?" he asks in a harsh whisper.

Cullen nods, biting back a smile at Varric's reaction. "Mmhm. But he's _very_ easy going, I'm sure he won't file a complaint." He pauses then, and Varric nods, looking more relaxed until Cullen adds, "probably."

As though on cue, Dorian saunters forward then, basket replenished with food. He looks at Varric first, his expression rather steeled, but then his eyes shift to Cullen and a wide smile takes over.

It sends a wave of something warm through Cullen's chest and he returns it eagerly. "Here," he says, stepping forward to take the basket from Dorian. "Let me bag all that for you."

Varric looks from Dorian to Cullen, then back to Dorian. "Sir, please, let me apologise for what happened. It's entirely my fault, I was being careless last night—"

Dorian shakes his head and waves Varric off. "Nonsense. This whole ordeal was rather inconveniencing, I'll readily admit that," he says to Varric, and then he looks at Cullen and adds, with a wink, "but not entirely unpleasant either."

Cullen's blushes and dips his head to finish packing up the groceries Dorian had gathered. He steps forward with the bags and passes them over to Dorian. Their hands graze as he does, and Dorian gives him a lopsided smile.

Dorian fishes his wallet from his pocket and takes out several bills, handing them to Varric—who is more than sufficiently taken aback. "That ought to settle everything I owe, between last night and these."

Varric is at a loss for words, for once, and Cullen is too. Dorian nods at Varric and heads for the front doors.

"Dorian, wait," Cullen says, turning and following after him. "I know you said you'd pay for everything but you really needn't, and even then, that is far too much…"

Dorian stops just before stepping onto the mat at the front doors and smiles at Cullen, and it's broad, warm. Knowing, in a way. Cullen returns it, unbidden and dumbfounded, and Dorian's gone with a wave before he can think of something else to say.

•••

Cullen goes home to sleep the rest of Monday away, and by Tuesday he's back at Herald's. He's thankful he managed to be away from the world the day before, because this morning he's nothing short of hopelessly distracted. He incorrectly rings up two customers and entirely forgets to bag a few of another's groceries. His break is scheduled for eleven, and by ten he's doing whatever he can to make the time pass as fast as possible.

So his head is bent when a pair of hands adorned with familiar-seeming rings and bracelets pass over the conveyor built and through his field of vision. He looks up sharply, trying to tamp down the foolish hope that maybe—

"I forgot a few things," Dorian says with a sly, crooked smile. "Suppose I was in something of a rush to get home, yesterday."

Cullen looks at Dorian open-mouthed for a moment, before his own smile takes over. "Maker, I'm surprised that was only yesterday…"

He doesn't add that it's because he's been missing Dorian, but with the way Dorian's smile warms and softens, he suspects he doesn't need to say so.

"It _was_ only yesterday, funny that. The rest of the day was something of a sleepy blur."

Cullen nods, chuckling as he rings up the last of Dorian's items. He normally doesn't pay close attention to what most customers purchase but he does glance at Dorian's, curious to see what he'd forgotten and it's one onion, one apple, and one breakfast bar. And the thin veil of Dorian's excuse falling away makes Cullen smile all the more.

He hands Dorian his receipt once it's printed, and Dorian takes it, looking at it thoughtfully for a moment. "Might you have a pen I could borrow?"

"Um…" Cullen pauses to look at his station, and then sees a pen lying in a corner. He hands it to Dorian without saying anything else.

"I've no real need of this," Dorian says, as he takes the pen and turns over the receipt to write across the back of it. "But I rather think that you do, so please—" he passes the pen back first, followed by the receipt. "When you get home to your mobile tonight, program this into it and use it, would you?"

Cullen looks at the numbers scrawled elegantly over the thin paper and smiles, looking up at Dorian as he folds it to put into his wallet. "I will, absolutely… right away."

"Good…" Dorian collects his items and then winks quickly at Cullen. "Good," he repeats, before taking a bite of his apple and turning on his heel to head out of the store.

Cullen watches him go.

 

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [tumblr](http://avrilxiv.tumblr.com) :)


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